The Meaning of Life
by SweetDeamon
Summary: Sirius is dead, and Remus is struggling to find the answer... Sequel to The Point of Anything. NOT slash. RLNT...sort of.


_Note: So...again I'm stalling with **Without a Trace**! Sorry to Messer Moony, Kuroida and Co! _

_Instead, here is a fluffy one-shot, my attempt to beat the writer's block into submission! It's called **The Meaning of Life**, and it is the sequel to **The Point of Anything**. It's a bit on the muddled side, perhaps, but hope you enjoy reading it! =)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any profit from this writing. _

**The Meaning of Life**

It had been just under nineteen years since James Potter had challenged his friend Remus Lupin to kick his arse in their NEWT Level Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, and looking back on it, Remus had to admit that accepting the challenge had been one of the most worthwhile things he had ever done.

He'd studied harder for that exam than he had for anything else in his whole entire life. He'd read his textbook cover to cover repeatedly, made mountains of revision notes to stick all over the walls of his dormitory, infuriated all three of his best friends by insisting that they quiz him about the subject over breakfast, lunch and dinner every day, and laid in his bed until the early hours practicing wand movements over and over until his wrist was aching and stiff. On one occasion Sirius Black had even caught him stood before a mirror in the boys' toilets, staring intently at himself as he perfected his pronunciation of the glossary of spells at the back of a textbook.

"Don't you think you're taking this whole beating Prongs thing a little too seriously?" Sirius had eventually asked, after he had spent several minutes laughing and mocking Remus for all he was worth.

"Nope." had been the determined and irritatingly unabashed response. "You heard what Prongs said. I'm going to kick his arse. Now go away, Padfoot, I'm trying to concentrate."

It had been worth it, Remus recalled, because for those few weeks there had been a meaning to life, albeit a frankly pointless one. He had kept himself occupied, he'd felt as though he was going to achieve something. What he had achieved in the end was an Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts, with a percentage mark high enough to well and truly kick James Potter's arse, and everybody elses' for that matter. His friends had insisted upon a party, which Remus had thought downright strange at the time – pranksters celebrating academic achievement? Whatever next? But it had been a wonderful party, Remus could still remember it with crystal clear clarity. That is to say as crystal clear as is possible when one has drunk a few too many Fire Whiskeys and perhaps a little more Butterbeer than is entirely wise. Remus was pretty sure there had been some of Lily's Victoria sponge cake, some Honeydukes chocolate and a number of rather suspect party games involving a pack of Exploding Snap cards. The one thing that Remus was entirely sure of was just how gloriously happy he had felt, and it had not all been down to the alcohol, either. It had been down to his realization that life outside of Hogwarts might just be bearable. His friends had been at his side, their optimism, inebriated or not had made his hopes soar above the clouds and he did not want to fall back down again.

Remus clung onto the memory for nineteen years, recalling with a smile that it had been his friends who had given his life meaning. People were key. And as he had slowly sunk back down below the clouds into the stunted existence that he had always secretly expected, the memory became more precious than ever.

It had been this memory that he had been recalling one dull, dismal afternoon in the garden of The Burrow. Despite it being the middle of June, Remus thought the miserable weather fitting. After all, sunshine just wouldn't do on a day like this; the day he truly realized that life had lost it's meaning. The previous afternoon, he'd lost Sirius. The last firm hand stopping him from hitting rock bottom had been cruelly snatched away in a flash of green light and the flutter of a veil. Sirius was gone along with James, Lily and Peter, and Remus was the only one left.

And so it was that Remus sat in the garden, time drifting away into nothing, numbed by loss and the chilly droplets of water that had begun to fall from the sky. He pondered a desperate question:

Now that they are all gone, what is the meaning of life?

Of course when Lily, James and Peter had all supposedly died and Sirius had been locked away in Azkaban, Remus had felt much the same as he did now. And yet this time it was so much worse. Last time he had wondered _what am I going to do?_ This time, however, he already knew what his life was going to be like because it had already happened once before. Sirius was dead and Peter's betrayal did not require or even deserve Remus' consideration. As far as the werewolf was concerned, Wormtail was dead to him too.

This was it, Remus thought dismally. This is my life. My pointless, miserable existence.

There came the soft squelch of wet grass underfoot. Somebody was coming, but Remus did not bother to look up from his shoes.

"Hi." said a familiar voice, and at last Remus was forced to glance up, eyes coming to rest upon one Nymphadora Tonks, complete with bruised forehead and arm in a sling.

"Hello." he mumbled rather half-heartedly, looking back down at his shoes. He vaguely considered the fact that he ought say something like: It's good to see you're out of the hospital. Or: You are looking much better today, but that would mean starting a conversation and he was keen to be left alone. There was a long silence and he wondered if she would take a hint, but then she said:

"It's raining."

Suppressing a sigh, he glanced back up at her again rather questioningly.

"Yes," he agreed when she merely stared at him expectantly. "It is."

"So are you going to come inside with me, or would you rather stay out here and wait to catch hypothermia?" she asked him, reaching to pull her cloak further around her shoulders, shielding the sling from the damp. When he simply stared at her in a somewhat uncomprehending way she finally seemed to get the message and wordlessly turned back towards the house. Remus listened to the sound of her boots squelching in the mud, aware that he ought feel glad that she was leaving as he had wanted. And yet he felt no relief, indeed he felt bordering on regretful.

Ten minutes later he heard footsteps again and Remus looked up just in time to see two mugs of steaming hot tea being silently offered to him.

"Well take one then," Tonks instructed after he had looked blankly at her again for a long moment. "They're burning my hand to buggery."

Remus obediently took a mug and watched her take a seat upon the wall beside him. He wondered what exactly he was supposed to say and settled on a rather mumbled:

"Thank you."

"No problem." Tonks replied, taking a sip of her tea. He heard her curse under her breath as the liquid scalded her throat and despite himself he felt an urge to smile. "Besides," she said, looking down at the grass and digging a booted toe into the dirt. "Life sucks enough right now without you freezing yourself to death out here too."

They drank their tea in silence until the back door of the Burrow opened and Mrs. Weasley called to them to let them know that lunch was ready. Tonks got slowly to her feet, careful not to slip in the wet, and turned to regard her silent companion thoughtfully.

"You coming?" she asked him, and when he gave a shrug she reached to grasp hold of him by the hand. "Of course you are, Remus. Get up."

He allowed her to pull him up onto his feet and she offered him the smallest of smiles.

"Come on," she said as she turned and began to lead him by the hand back towards the house. "We'll have a bite to eat and then you can kick my arse at chess."

And there it was, Remus realized as they reached the back door, stepping over the threshold and peeling off their sodden cloaks and muddy shoes. The meaning of life, of sorts. Perhaps there were multiple meanings, perhaps they changed over time. Perhaps there were moments when you didn't know what the meaning was but you kept on going anyway. And he would keep on going, he decided, because people still cared. New, different people cared, and wasn't that just glorious? To think that you'd had your friends and lost them, only to realize that there were other friends too? New people to appreciate, to treasure, to give life meaning. As he sat down at the kitchen table, watching Tonks and an assortment of other Order members set about piling sandwiches onto their plates, Remus smiled for the first time that day. He smiled again some hour later, once he had leaned across the coffee table in the sitting room and smugly informed the witch sat opposite him:

"Check mate."


End file.
